Like I said in my previous blog post, I decided to become Jack’s friend.  I had a Masters Degree in Education and he could barely read and write, but I became his friend because he needed one.

He told me about all the things I related to you in the previous post over a four or five year period.

I did my best to help him contact his daughters by going through Social Security.  I composed a letter for him explaining how he’d lost contact, that he was sorry and  wanted to make see them, have them write him, or talk to them on the phone.  The letter gave them his address and phone number.  We sent the letter to Social Security. Jack knew his oldest daughters and his wife’s social security number so Social Security was able to locate the addresses.  They will not give addresses to you, but will send the letter for you.  Jack never heard from any of his daughters who are now in their thirties.  His x-wife called and they got in an argument and that was the end of it.  Jack was depressed for a couple years over it.  I’d warned him that this could happen before we sent the letter and told him he should be sure he was willing to take a chance on being hurt.  He said he was, but it was harder than he expected when it actually happened.

We live in a place with cold winters and Jack had a wood stove that leaked smoke into the house.  I told him he needed to fix it or quit using it.  He’s always been concerned about his health so quit using it.  It would be so cold in his house that it was hard for me to visit.  The house had been a funeral home at one time  and most of the walls had been knocked out so he was trying to heat a huge space with one wood stove that was going to kill him.  He had a gas heater, but no money for fuel.

Jack wanted to work.  His father had taught him how to be a mechanic so I suggested he drive to people’s home to fix their cars or farm equipment.  We discussed a name and decided on Mobile Mechanic.  He had a van, bought letters, and put them on the side and back along with his phone number.  He got a few jobs, but his inability to read and write made it impossible for him to stay in business for long.  Prior to this, he drove a Harrowbed to  pick up and stack bales of hay for local farmers.  I helped him design the invoices and bill his customers.  I even helped him collect from people who didn’t pay,  but over time he got less and less work and soon realized he’d have to give it up too.

I filled out the paperwork so he could take two people to small claims court to collect his money.  He won one and lost the other.  He brought a lot of documentation for the one he won and didn’t show any for the one he lost, but to his credit,  Jack argued his own case. 

Jack used to bad mouth anyone who was on welfare.  His kept saying his dad taught him that.  It took quite a bit of time for me to convince him that he was owed something for all his years of working for his dad and paying taxes.  Finally, I helped him apply for welfare.  He ended up getting food stamps and health care which at least meant he wasn’t going to starve,  die, or lose his teeth from lack of care.  He eventually removed the smoke belching stove and was given a 100 gallon allotment of kerosene from the county for his heater.  The allotment was so small he still had to keep the temperature of his house in the 50’s.

I gave him an electric blanket so he wouldn’t be cold at night and would have some place to go when he got too cold.  He blocked off half his house at my suggestion so he wouldn’t have to heat the whole house.  This helped some, but the 100 gallons a year he got wasn’t enough to allow him to ever keep that space very warm.  I came by one time and he’d put up a small tent in front of the heater so he could at least keep a little warmer.  I smiled at his creativity.

I made arrangements for us to meet with someone at Social Security to see if he had enough quarters to collect social security disability.  That’s when we found out his dad hadn’t paid into social security.  The lady at the office suggested he try to get Social Security Supplemental Income.  She asked him about his assets, and of course he listed all the junk in his yard which he valued so high that they rejected his request.

After his claim was rejected, he decided that maybe all that junk wasn’t worth that much.  He  paid an appraiser $250 out of his savings.  The appraiser verified it wasn’t worth much at all.  Despite that, it took over two years before he was able to convince them he was poor.   At the time he started receiving supplemental income the county took away his food stamps, but he was happy knowing he had a secure source of income.

I was selling my motor home and when I couldn’t find a buyer, he asked if he could buy it.  He didn’t have any credit history so he and I thought this would help him establish good credit.  I wasn’t sure where the money was going to come from, but told him I would sell it to him for $4,000 and wouldn’t charge him interest.  (I thought it would be nice if he could have something to brighten his life.  I don’t think he uses it much because he can’t afford the gas.)  He agreed to pay me $1000 a year for four years.  This was before he’d ever gotten a penny from Social Security.  He must have been hording the remainder of the $16,000 he’d gotten from his mother in court.  (It couldn’t have been much though because quite a few years had passed since he settled with his mother and bought the house) It wasn’t in the bank so I don’t know where he kept it.  It could have been part of something he saved when he had work. 

Jack and I occasionally took short trips together around the mountain area we live in. We laughed and talked and often I was surprised by his wisdom.  People in our church began to respect him and include him in their conversations because he was my friend and because I often defended him and tried to make them understand what his life was like.  They became more compassionate and understanding over time.  He got so he loved being a part of all the church activities.

While Jack had some down home wisdom I was often surprised at how narrow minded he could be.  I often found Jack listening to Christian radio on the small FM stereo and CD player I bought him for one of  his birthdays.  I warned him that Jesus told us to love one another and to forgive others and that too often these guys only talked about sin and hell and hot button issues.   He only laughed when I told him, telling me, “They have a lot of good things to say.  I like listening to them.  They know what they’re talking about.”

Jack had his phone turned off before he finally got his supplemental income and we didn’t talk as much because he got a cell phone that allowed him only so many minutes a month.  It wasn’t much, so I didn’t hear from him very often and I didn’t call him very often because he didn’t want to use up his minutes in case of an emergency.  I’d stop by now and then when I went to the dump.  I was playing organ at a different church in the same parish so didn’t see him at church anymore either.

We had a common friend who was a very conservative Catholic.  For a time, Jack wouldn’t talk to him.  The friend called me and asked if I’d intercede.  I encouraged Jack to renew his friendship.  Eventually, they did, and he and this guy hung around a lot because they lived close to each other.  I lived about 10 miles away.

So, like I said in the previous blog entry, a week or so ago I stopped at Jack’s on the way back from the dump.  He was working ou
tside on his storage shed.  He came over and we shook hands.  I asked him, “Why haven’t you called or come by to say hello?”

He got a serious look on his face.  “Because you’re a sinner.  You believe in killing little innocent babies, innocent babies that can’t defend themselves.  I can’t be your friend because my soul is too important.  I don’t want to go to hell.”

My anger rose slowly as I said.  “What do you mean baby killer.  I don’t believe in abortion, but I do believe in a woman’s right to choose. God gave us free will and it’s not right for us to take a woman’s free will away from her.  That’s a sin.”

He raised his voice.  “All I know is you voted for people who believe in killing babies and I can’t be your friend.”

My voice got louder. ‘ “Jack, that’s the same party that makes it possible for you to get money from social security.  If it wasn’t for the Democrats, you wouldn’t have anything.”

“I don’t care.  You’re a sinner.  You’re all sinners and my soul is too important to be a part of it.”  He walked behind the building so I couldn’t see him.

I yelled.  “After all the help I’ve given you because Jesus asked us to love one other and you’re telling me that you can’t be my friend because I’m a sinner you’ll go to hell?”

It was quiet for a about 20 seconds and then he came out screaming.  “Get out of here.  Get off my property.”

I went back to my truck and yelled, “You don’t know what it means to be a Christian or a friend."  I wished I hadn’t said it, but I was angry.  I got in my truck and yelled.  “You know this is really sad.  I can’t believe it.”  The temptation to call him stupid, spin my tires in the gravel, and leave big holes in his driveway was great, but I turned the steam valve shut and drove out hurt and angry, thinking, "I thought we were friends.  But I guess not.  I wonder what Jesus would think of this.”

The anger hasn’t subsided in me yet.  It’s in this blog I suppose.  But I can tell you that if Jack ever shows at my door and wants to be friends again, I will say yes.

If you’d like to read my older blogs that are over a year old, they can be found at dukerone.blogspot.com